


Shadow of a Doubt

by ancestrallizard



Series: Reign of Arcfire (Dragon-Robin AU) [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Blood, Gen, dragon au nobody asked for, slight gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 20:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11563161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancestrallizard/pseuds/ancestrallizard
Summary: Frederick is rightly suspicious of the Shepherds' new tactician.





	Shadow of a Doubt

It would have been best if Frederick, Chrom, and Lissa, had just moved on when they first met Robin and never spoke to them at all, never mind inviting them to join the Shepherds (Frederick suspected Chrom was trying to make him go grey before his time.) That the stranger gave memory loss as an excuse for why they wouldn’t divulge anything about themselves, or that the ease with which they adapted to their role as tactician belied some kind of combat experience, would be enough to make the situation a catastrophe waiting to happen. What pushed the current arrangement past a potential disaster into a farce was that in addition everything, their new Shepherd and tactician was a dragon.

Or, Frederick assumed they were. Robin did not resembled any dragon he’d ever seen or heard of before, or manakete for that matter. Robin claimed not to know what they were either; another unnecessarily elusive answer to what should be a straightforward question. Their horns were too small and shaped differently than the designs on reliefs in the palace and temples of Ylisstol, and they were leagues smaller, but they still bore a worrying resemblance to the Fell Dragon, an association that could only precede some ill fate. 

Frederick never let Robin far from his sight, and even in battle kept tabs on their whereabouts, both to ensure they made no foul move against the prince or princess or other shepherds, and in hopes of finding a weakness. But in skirmishes against brigands and risen alike their hide demonstrated an imperviousness to iron or steel, and tomes of fire and lightning didn’t even make them flinch. More than once they used their body to block Shepherds from attack before turning on the enemy with fangs and fire like a beast from hell. The stench of burnt flesh, both fresh and rancid, was becoming a common backdrop to their victories. 

Outside of battle, they were irritatingly complaisant, hunting for extra food when rations ran unexpectedly low, carrying supplies for a fortnight when one of the horses was injured and couldn’t carry the extra weight, and essentially volunteering for everything they could do without hands, though they had the presence of mind not to volunteer for any night watches of the camp. Attempts at socialization were less successful, as apart from the royal siblings and a few others, forays at conversation often led to deadends of monosyllabic answers and uneasy silences. Not much changed between encountering them, returning to the capital, and going right back out again to Regna Ferox.

Frederick kept an eye on the slate grey clouds as he scouted a path through the forest of looming pine and spruce trees. Barely into the neighboring country and the temperature was already plummeting, and a heaviness in the air signaled that snow could be on the horizon.

A familiar gait was crashing through the willowy shrubs and grasses behind Frederick, its owner not bothering to hide their presence. He stopped, turning to face one of their newest Shepherds. “Is something amiss, Robin?” He asked. Robin stopped short in front of him, barely out of breath despite likely running all the way from the main body of the army. Frederick pushed down petty frustration at having to look up at the tactician to speak to them, a rarity for him. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” They answered in a deep unsettling rumble somewhere between human language and an animal croak. The motion of speech drew Frederick’s attention to their sharp off-yellow teeth, always visible even when their mouth was shut. “Chrom wanted to know if you found a good place to stop soon.” Robin shivered, ruffling the black feathers on their wings, neck and back until they all stood on end. “I hope it doesn’t get much colder than this. I don’t think I’ve ever been this far north before. Have you?”

“Was there anything else you had to tell me?” 

Three sets of eyes blinked slowly, synchronously at him, and some of their feathers drooped somewhat. “That was it.”

“I remember an area ahead we should still be able to use. It won’t take more than an hour to reach it.” And none to soon, either – flakes of snow were starting to fall now, only just visible against dark tree bark and Robin’s scales and feathers. A cold wind stirred the needled branches above them, and they shivered again, their sickle-like claws gouging furrows in the frozen earth. They nodded, shrugged their shoulders stiffly, and left to return to the rest of the Shepherds.

True to his estimate, they reached the site before long. Frederick wanted to patrol the potential campsite before settling in, but after an arduous march over rough terrain in the cold, trying to keep everyone out while he inspected the entire clearing might have sparked an insurrection. He examined the camp as he helped set it up. Apart from the thickets of forest that had infringed on the clearing since he’d last been, it appeared fine.

He passed Chrom’s tent on the way to check the weapons’ conditions. The prince was outside it, alongside their new tactician. Robin was explaining something to him in a low voice and scratching diagrams into the earth with a curved claw they’d used to disembowel more than one person in battle before. Frederick ignored the feeling he was being watched as he passed them by.

The weapons were unaffected by the weather. Frederick saw to the rest of his routine, trying his best to ignore the plummeting temperature. He took care of his horse, mended the tears in his clothes, and attempted to eat some stringy rations before giving up after a few bites and turning in to sleep for a few hours, before he had to take over the night watch after Stahl.

A layer of fresh snow muffled the sounds of his boots when he stepped out into the night, and a light waning layer of snow was still falling as he started to patrol through camp. A new moon cast an almost impenetrable dark, even to his eyes, seasoned at night watches, and his lantern barely made a dent in it. 

The tents, both for sleeping and for storage, were undisturbed. Robin’s tarp, set up a ways away from the other tents, looked in order for the most part. He’d nearly finished a first circuit around the outside of the camp when he stopped dead in his tracks. 

Frederick only saw the thing because of the negative space it created against the snow, like a fragment of the starless night sky had torn away and gained sentience. The scant details he could see, a long neck and sharp, light-colored teeth, were more than enough to identify it. Robin’s body was crouched low to the ground, gliding towards camp, feathered tail weaving side to side like a snake. Frederick could barely hear the crunch of snow under their feet as they moved to the outermost Shepard’s tents. The tension in their back and shoulders was of a kind Frederick knew well enough from feral cats and wild animals to interpret it – They were hunting. 

His free hand moved to his shortsword's grip as he kept his lantern as still as possible. Robin’s attention was fixed on something in the distance, and by all appearances, even with Frederick’s lit lantern, they hadn’t seen him yet. Their path would cross Frederick's soon, however, so that would not be the case for long. He could still do damage without his horse and lance if he moved fast enough and caught them by surprise, struck them in one or more of their eyes and called for reinforcement. His armor would shield against their teeth to an extent, but not the flames. 

But was it a necessary risk? If he were wrong, he could partially blind their new tactician when they might need them the most. And if he did not act and Robin was planning to kidnap or murder, the results could be far more disastrous.

For every second he wasted in thought, they stepped closer to camp.

Frederick’s hand loosened, and Robin sprang forward not a second later, sending plumes of snow flying as they sped past Frederick’s line of sight, into the maze of tents and out of sight. A snap like a dead tree breaking and a human scream shattered the midnight silence. 

He ran after the dragon, sword drawn and heart in his throat, even before his forgotten lantern hit the ground. He ran to the screams, and into an unexpected light – Stahl was hurrying to the spot as well, lantern in hand, urgency and fear plain in his body and face even in the shifting uneven shadows cast by the light he held.

The first thing he saw when Stahl brought the light closer was red - deep red stains on the violently disturbed snow and exposed earth, red welling around Robin’s teeth, buried in the leg of a struggling, still screaming stranger, his fingers scrambling at the dragon’s unmovable jaws and becoming weaker by the second, and Robin’s bright, bright red eyes, six burning points that dilated harshly with the new light before refocusing. They let go of the man and pinned him to ground with their front leg. 

Robin shook the blood from their maw, further marring the snow, and answered the question plainly on his and Stahl’s faces. “He woke me up when he snuck out of the woods past me.”

The assailant in question had gone still, just as something ran through the snow towards them from the dark. All three tensed, then relaxed as the approaching figure resolved itself into Lissa, stave in one hand and lamp in the other, a thick cloak thrown over her sleeping clothes. The new light illuminated a forgotten weapon in the snow, close to the unconscious man, garbed in the cloak and bracers of an assassin. Frederick carefully picked it up by the handle. It was a long dagger, of Plegian make and starting to rust, but still sharp. Fresh blood coated the edge. 

Robin explained the circumstances again to Lissa as she stabilized the stranger and Stahl held him steady. After they were finished, Frederick asked Robin, “Why didn’t you call for help?” 

They wilted “By the time I saw him he was already close to camp. I didn’t want to risk anyone getting hurt by starling him.”

“You risked yourself.”

“There was a lower chance he could have seriously hurt me.”

Lissa managed to patch up the attacker’s leg. It wouldn’t bleed out now, though it was doubtful he’d ever fully use it again. Frederick told Stahl to take him back to his own tent for questioning. Stahl nodded and half-dragged, half carried the unconscious assassin away. She almost followed him, but hesitated and pointed to the side of Robin’s head, where a cut close to their eye was sluggishly oozing blood . Frederick was vaguely surprised to see it was red. 

“Did he hurt you?” She asked.

Robin pawed at the wound. “Oh. I hadn’t noticed. I think it’ll heal on its own.”

Lissa swung her stave close to Robin’s face, nearly hitting them in the eye. “Hold still.”

They angled their head away. “No, it’s fine,” they insisted. “Save it for someone else.”

“I can heal it, its not a big deal!”

“Better to treat it now before gets infected,” Frederick agreed. 

After a few more half-hearted protests, they acquiesced and let Lissa heal the cut. Frederick would have to send Shepherds out into the surrounding forest to make sure there wasn’t anyone else waiting for them, though the sound of their compatriot screaming their throat raw might have dissuaded anyone from any further attack. “I’ll need someone to patrol the camp for me while I see to the prisoner. Could you do it, Robin?”

Robin gaped at Frederick for a moment before their jaw closed with an audible clip. “Of course.” They blinked, and something about their narrowed eyes reminded him inexplicably, not of anger or distrust, but of the kind of smile so eager and genuine that reached someone’s eyes. 

The three went their separate ways, Lissa back to her tent and sleep, Frederick to see to the prisoner and wake some Shepherds to patrol the woods, and Robin to patrol the camp, their tactician leaving in the opposite direction as Frederick, their steps quick and silent.

It was past time he let them do patrols of camp. They were certainly enthusiastic enough, and had a work ethic Frederick admired despite everything. It would be a waste not to put their energy to good use.

**Author's Note:**

> Robin's psyched to get more work. wish i had that mindset.
> 
> Feel free to check out my tumblr if you'd like, I post about fire emblem once in a blue moon, usually echoes as of late; ancestrallizard.tumbr.com


End file.
